


flour in your hair, love in your heart

by mirkandmidnight



Series: author's favorites [6]
Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Figs, Multi, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is how it starts. Patroclus takes an opening shift one day in late September, because Briseis has gotten the stomach flu and swears that if she moves from her bed, she may vomit. So he ends up working with Odysseus and Iphigenia, who never does a damn thing but gets to keep her job because she's Fucking Agamemnon's kid, and can you spell nepotism? Patroclus can. That higher education isn't going to waste, oh no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flour in your hair, love in your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Irrelevancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/gifts).



> Written for the Song of Achilles Fic Exchange. I was a pinch hitter, so that's a thing. Your prompts were hella.

Patroclus is not a morning person. He despises waking up early, and for this reason he tries very hard not to take the opening shifts at Spartan Cafe. But lately, he's been working as many opening shifts as he can take, mostly because it's when he's most likely to see Hot Guy.

Here is how it starts. Patroclus takes an opening shift one day in late September, because Briseis has gotten the stomach flu and swears that if she moves from her bed, she may vomit. So he ends up working with Odysseus and Iphigenia, who never does a damn thing but gets to keep her job because she's Fucking Agamemnon's kid, and can you spell nepotism? Patroclus can. That higher education isn't going to waste, oh no.

So how it goes down is Odysseus makes the coffee (Rule Number 1 of working at Spartan Cafe is that you may only refer to the boss as Fucking Agamemnon, Rule Number 2 is that you do not discuss the Great Espresso Incident of 2014.), Patroclus runs the till, and Iphigenia sits in the back room and plays on her phone, because that is the way of the world.

Around 8:45, when the morning rush is dying down and Patroclus is looking forward to sitting down and cleaning out the machines, the bell above the door. This, in and of itself, is not an irregular occurrence. The door opens a lot. Patroclus has grown rather accustomed to the sound the bell makes when it's opening. What's irregular is the guy coming through it.

He's about Patroclus's own age, which is the first thing he notices. Roughly a tenth of a second later, he notices how hot this guy is, like seriously, how the hell is this even fair? Look at those muscles! 

Hot Guy walks up the counter, where Patroclus is trying to shake himself out of his shocked stupor and Odysseus (that traitor) has fled into the back room, making some excuse about sorting out the flavor syrups.

"Hi," Patroclus says, and is actually sort of proud of how his voice didn't come out as a complete squeak. Who says he can't handle this? Hot Guy is staring at him. "Um. What can I get you?"

Hot Guy clears his throat, and holy hell, is that a bun? Patroclus may be in love. "Ah, just a latte please," he says in a pleasant tenor. 

Patroclus takes his money in silence, gives him his change, and sets about making his drink. It's a little awkward, given that there's absolutely no one else in the shop, so they're just sitting there in dead silence while Patroclus draws a leaf in the foam atop his latte, but he'll take the silence over any attempt at conversation right now.

He gives Hot Guy his drink, avoiding all eye contact because yes, he is a coward. Hot Guy nods and leaves, the bell jingling over his head. 

The second he's gone, Odysseus appears out of freaking nowhere like the creepy little dude that he is, practically drooling with excitement. "Well?" he asks. "Did you talk to him?"

Patroclus looks at him like he's gone crazy, which is actually not out of the question, since he's seen Odysseus drink five cups of coffee in two hours before. "Um, no?"

The other man's shoulders slump, and his expression gets slightly desperate. "Patroclus. What is wrong with you? You're single, he's single, you two are both attractive people, he's got a body like a literal Grecian god-"

"Odysseus, you have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, but I still have eyes." Odysseus folds his arms across his chest. "Did you even get his name?"

Patroclus slumps. "No."

Odysseus screeches his displeasure and whacks Patroclus upside the head. "I repeat, what the hell is wrong with you? You're just lucky Briseis noticed this guy and though he looked like your type, I swear to God."

He tilts his head to one side. "Wait a minute. Briseis saw him? I thought she was sick."

"He comes in at the same goddamn time every day, has done for the past month. And Briseis needed a day off. The only thing we underestimated was your own incompetence at interacting with other human beings."

At that moment, Iphigenia emerges from the break room, a chalupa in one hand, her phone in the other, and a petulant expression on her face. "I'm not sure if you guys noticed, but the espresso machine's making really weird hissing noises?"

They both turn to look at the offending machine, which is making noises akin tot he death screams of small animals, and wince. It's going to be a long morning.  
***  
So Patroclus ends up having to completely shift around his work schedule after the start of the new semester, and as it happens, all of his shifts are now opening. This, of course, is a complete coincidence. It's totally not because of Hot Guy. It's just that he has a very important class that he needs for his doctorate that just so happens to be at the exact time that he'd been working previously.

And hey, if he sees Hot Guy every morning, that's just an added perk, right?

Right?

They've got a new hire, Cressida, who's Diomedes's girlfriend. (Apparently she's just broken up with one of the guys from their rival cafe, Priam and Sons, and it was really messy. Like, really messy.) But Cressida seems okay, and she does twice the work that Iphigenia does, so Patroclus at least doesn't outright hate her.

At exactly 8:45, the door swings open, jingling merrily, and Patroclus looks up a little too eagerly. And yes, it's Hot Guy. Unfortunately, there's still a bit of a line today, so he has to wait a bit before Hot Guy gets to the front of the line. 

"What can I get for you?" Patroclus asks, grinning. 

Hot Guy hesitates. "Latte, please?"

"And your name is?"

"Achilles." Patroclus considers this. Achilles. Hm. A bit odd, but hey, he's certainly not one to talk considering his own name. And it's meaning. Pride of the father, really? His parents really could not have been farther off the mark with that.

He gives Achilles his latte a few minutes later, and is about to go back to the register when the other man taps him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" he says, pasting his best customer service smile on and really, if this guy turns out to be a total asshole he's going to be so irritated.

"I was wondering what your name was?" Achilles asks, sounding surprisingly unsure.

"Patroclus," he responds, biting the inside of his cheek subconsciously.

"Patroclus," Achilles repeats, sounding out the syllables carefully. He nods and turns towards the door, raising the take away cup in a silent salute. "Thanks."

Patroclus stands there for a moment before Cressida's hissed pleas for help draw him back to the register. 

Briseis shows up at the end of his shift. She takes the afternoons, usually, and Patroclus has missed working with her. It's been ages since they've even talked to one another, since she's holding two jobs to put herself through school and he's a bit busy with his schoolwork as well. No one ever said becoming a physician is easy.

She hangs up her coat on one of the rack, pulling her dark, curly hair back into a ponytail. "So, how have you been, Patroclus?" she asks. 

"Not bad. You?"

Briseis takes a step closer, poking at him teasingly. "Oh, come on. I've been hearing all about this guy from Odysseus. What'd he call him? 8:45?"

He bats her hands away, a grin on his face. "Yeah, about that. What's this I Hear about you faking illness to get me to take an opening shift?"

She laughs aloud. "You probably won't believe me, but I was actually sick that day. So you met him? What'd you think?"

Patroclus shrugs, feigning innocence. "I dunno, he seems nice. Why?"

"Patroclus!" Briseis smacks him on the shoulder. "Really, though, what did you think of him? Odysseus knows him from some of the classes they've taken together, and apparently he's a really nice guy. And you haven't been on a real date since god knows when. Why don't you have a little fun?"

"I don't know, Bris, I'm busy."

Odysseus peeks out of the breakroom, and Patroclus does not even want to know how he got back there without someone noticing him. He's not even scheduled to work today, for god's sake, so why is he here? "You should at least make an effort," he says. 

"Fine," Patroclus grumbles. "You all win, I'll see what happens." He holds up his hands. "But hey, no promises."  
***  
So the next morning, he makes a bit more of an effort. He puts some time into picking out his clothes, and manages to run a comb through his hair before shoving his glasses on and heading out the door to catch the bus. He arrives a couple minutes before his shift starts (he's working with Odysseus and Iphigenia, hooray) and paces back and forth in the break room. What time is it? Patroclus glances down at his watch, and of course, it's only 8:00.

He groans and cards a hand through his hair. This could go badly. This could so badly. This Achilles could be straight. Hell, he could be a homophobe. What if he laughs? Seven hells, why did he let Odysseus and Briseis talk him into this shit? He should just go home. He should just go home right now and go back to bed and not come back to work, ever. That's probably the only way he'll ever be able to live with himself, if he walks out this very second.

Across from him, Iphigenia snaps her gum and plays Flappy Bird. 

"What's eating you?" she asks, not looking up from the screen of her phone.

That's almost enough to shock Patroclus out of his funk. Iphigenia is actually taking the trouble to ask about another human being? Wonders will never cease. He's so stunned it actually takes him a second to process her question.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just this guy."

"Boyfriend?"

"No, I just-" Patroclus pauses. "He's cute, and I want to talk to him, but I don't want to make a fool out of myself and we've barely even spoken."

Iphigenia shrugs. "Do it. What've you got to lose? And if he doesn't like you, screw him. Life's too short to waste time on that shit."

For the first time, Patroclus looks at Iphigenia, really looks at her. "Thanks, Iphigenia."

She still hasn't made eye contact with him. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

8:45 rolls around, and Patroclus steels his nerves. Achilles walks through the door as usual, and Patroclus puts on what he hopes is a winning smile. "Good morning," he says. 

Achilles nods. "Patroclus, right?"

"Yep!" he responds, honestly surprised he hasn't messed things up beyond hope of redemption. Maybe today is just his day. "So, do you go to school around here?" Achilles nods. "Yeah? What's your major in?"

He shifts his feet. "Military history. You?"

"I want to be a doctor."

Achilles nods again, clearly considering this statement. "You know, I can actually picture you doing that. It suits you. Funny, right?"

Patroclus smiles, trying not to panic too much. This is fine, he tells his brain sternly. This is totally fine, you're going to be fine, stop smiling and say something back, you utter idiot. "Thanks. And it's weird, but I could totally picture you doing Military History."

Oh, for god's sake. 

Patroclus honestly has no idea what is happening to him. He is actually very good at flirting, he's a natural flirt. So why is this happening? Why?

"Latte?" he chokes out. Achilles nods, andhe sets about making the drink, not the least relieved that he can still handle making a stupid latte. Not everything he knows how to do has gone out the window, at the very least.

Achilles leaves as soon as he's gotten his drink and change, giving Patroclus a warm smile as he heads out the door. As soon as he's gone, Patroclus groans and falls forwards to hit his head on the wooden countertop. What the hell was that? This is actually shameful, Odysseus and Briseis are never going to let him hear the end of this.

Patroclus is screwed.

He is so, so screwed.  
***  
Patroclus is in the middle of explaining Rule Number Seven to Cressida the next morning (You are never to tell Odysseus to stop drinking coffee, under any circumstances.) when Fucking Agamemnon walks through the door, wearing a stupid, awful, pretentious coat and a sour expression on his face.

Achilles has already gotten his coffee, and is camped out at one of the tables in the corner, tapping away at his laptop. Patroclus has given up on trying to make eye contact with him this morning, since it's become apparent that no one has told Cressida the rules.

"Uh oh," Patroclus mutters as Agamemnon walks towards the break room, where (unless she's been bolstered by a sudden spurt of motivation) Iphigenia is playing on her phone. "That's not good."

Cressida follows his gaze, then looks questioningly at him. "What's up with that?"

"Iphigenia's dad," he replies.

"Uh oh," Cressida agrees.

A moment later, Agamemnon comes back out, Iphigenia in tow, and he must not see Achilles in the corner, because he starts in on her almost immediately. Patroclus winces, and he and Cressida begin inching away towards the back room.

But of course that doesn't work, because he swears Agamemnon has eyes on the back of his head. So they're both trapped behind the counter, Agamemnon is still yelling at his daughter, and Achilles is starting to look pissed off. At least a minute into the lecture, he stands up, holding his laptop bag in one hand, and approaches Agamemnon. 

Patroclus shakes his head furiously at him, but of course, Achilles isn't looking. 

"Look, sir," Achilles says. "There's really no need for you to be yelling at her out here. Why don't you calm down?"

Agamemnon ignores him. "You know what?" he says, pointing at Iphigenia. "You're fired. Go on, get out of here. And don't come asking me for help next time you need a job, Iphigenia." He turns on his heel and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Achilles nods once. "Right. I should probably go, then."

Patroclus is definitely not in love.  
***  
And so Achilles becomes something of a regular customer at Spartan Coffee. After Iphigenia's firing, Fucking Agamemnon hires on Diomedes, who is an absolute terror when in the same room as Odysseus. Patroclus and he become good friends as well, and Fucking Agamemnon has given up on trying to schedule the three of them for the same shift. It only ends in chaos.

In this way, Patroclus ends up working more and more often with Briseis and Cressida, which he's not going to complain about. They're good friends, and it's not an uncommon sight during slow periods for the three of them to be crowded around Achilles's table, talking animatedly until Fucking Agamemnon comes by and yells at them or a customer comes in.

Patroclus still hasn't asked Achilles out, but that's probably an okay thing since it most likely would have only ended in angst and ice cream at 3 in the morning, which he is so not ready to deal with. He's got enough to worry about with Briseis going on blind dates. Patroclus fully anticipates having to rescue her at some ungodly hour of the morning, given her luck with men.

It's the quiet time of the morning, and the only people in the shop are the employees, Achilles, and Briseis, who's not even signed up to work but came anyway to study. Patroclus looks around warily, then takes a scone out of the display case and walks over to Achilles's table.

Achilles is listening to music on his laptop, and Patroclus has to clear his throat several timesto get his attention. When he finally does look up, he breaks into a wide smile. Patroclus's heart is beating like a drum.

"Oh, hey, Patroclus," he says. "How have you been?"

"Good, I'm fine," he replies. "Hey, so we're trying out some new pastires on the menu, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind testing this one for me?" Patroclus holds out the scone. "It's got figs in it."

Achilles grins. "I love figs." Patroclus's cheeks are heating up, so he shoves the scone at Achilles and flees back behind the counter.

When Achilles leaves a few hours later, Patroclus goes over to clean the table and finds a hand written note underneath a plate. Dear Patroclus, it reads, the scone was delicious. Thanks. Scrawled underneath is a phone number. Patroclus glances around, then grabs the paper off the table and shoves it into his pocket, then retreats to the break room. Odysseus and Briseis can manage without him for a couple minutes.

Once he's safely inside, he takes out the slip of paper and stares at the phone number. Surely it doesn't belong to Achilles? On an impulse, he saves the number to his phone and sends it a text.

To: Achilles  
hey this is Patroclus

A second later, his phone buzzes. 

From: Achilles  
oh hey! what are you doing

"Patroclus!" He can hear Briseis's voice all the way from the register, which can only mean that she's pissed off at him. 

To: Achilles  
ahhh sorry I have to go back to work

Yes, Patroclus can be something of a coward at times.  
***  
He's awoken at god-knows-what o clock by the ringing of his cell phone. Patroclus rolls over, grabbing the offending device and taking the call. "'lo?" he mumbles.

"Patroclus," Briseis says, which snaps him awake.

"Bris. Oh my god, are you okay? Is everything okay? What's wrong?" Patroclus's heart is racing. Brisies went out last night, and the last time she'd called this early he'd had to bail her out of a prison cell.

Briseis laughs. "No, no, I'm fine. I just got a call from Fucking Agamemnon, and apparently the guy who does the baking just quit on the spot, and he decides that he can wait to tell me intil 4 in the goddamn morning," and her cheerful tone is starting to verge on the hysterical, "so someone needs to bake the goddamn pastries and you're the only person I can think of who knows how to bake anything, so I need you to get over there right now and bake as much as you can."

"Um." Patroclus says. "Trying to sleep?"

"Please, I am begging you, I will buy you so much coffee."

Patroclus sighs and looks at the clock. He isn't even supposed to be working today, as it's his day off, but he gets the feeling that Briseis will literally murder him if he says no. "Oh my god, fine," he sighs. "I'll be over there as soon as possible."

He gets to Spartan Cafe twenty minutes later, the sky still dark and the streetlights still on. Patroclus unlocks the door with the spare key and heads into the kitchen, where he gets started baking.

See, the thing is that Patroclus is really good at baking. His mother taught him before she died, and since his father was always away for work, it was one of the few things he could do alone, besides schoolwork. He loves baking. And truth be told, he's not exactly surprised that he's the only person Briseis knows who can do it.

Time flies by, and he's taking rack after rack of scones and cookies and even a couple cakes out of the ovens. It doesn't register what time it is until someone's knocking on the window and he looks up and it's Achilles, holding up a brown paper bag and a take away cup.

He rushes to the door and lets Achilles in. "Hey," Achilles says. "Odysseus called and asked me to come by and check up on you, make sure you haven't burned the place down." He takes a closer look at Patroclus and frowns. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really I am," Patroclus says, the words coming out in a rush. "Sorry, it's just, I've got a quiche in the oven and it's going to go off any minute now, and I really need it not to burn, so-" A timer rings, and he dashes back to the oven, pulling the quiche out and setting it down on the cooling rack.

Achilles looks on, bemused, and sits down at his usual table to wait. 

An hour later, the first people on the opening shift show up. Patroclus ignores them, working quickly to put the newly cooled cookies on the rack. He doesn't speak to anyone again until Briseis taps his arm and jerks a thumb at Achilles, who is still sitting at the table. "I think your boy's getting a little worried," she says. "Maybe go talk to him?"

Patroclus shakes his head furiously, and Briseis sighs. "Patroclus," she snaps. "You've been here for five hours. Go home. I'm taking your shift tomorrow, don't even argue with me about this, just go home and get some sleep."

He rolls his eyes, but takes off his apron and goes over to sit down next to Achilles. "Hey," he says.

Achilles smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "You look like hell."

Patroclus rests his head in his hands. "Yeah, that's the trouble about working in this kind of a business, getting called in at god awful hours of the morning to bake." He sighs. "God, I'm tired."

Achilles stands. "I'll walk you home." He leads Patroclus out of the cafe and they start walking down the street, Patroclus leading the way. They make it back to his apartment fairly quickly, Patroclus hesitating as he unlocks the door. "Do you want to come in?"

He shrugs. "Sure, if you don't mind the company." They make their way to the kitchen, where Achilles sits and Patroclus starts looking in the cupboards for the cups.

"I've got a roommate, Automedon," he starts, "and he never puts the dishes back where he finds them. Nice guy, though. He's almost never here." Achilles just leans back in the chair, folding his arms behind his head, and watches him search.

Patroclus finally finds the glasses and fills them with water. He passes one to Achilles and sits down across from him, staring contemplatively at the clear glass.

"So," Achilles says.

"So," Patroclus echoes.

"I've been thinking."

"Dangerous thing, that," he says, fingers tapping a rhythm on the hard cover of one of his textbooks. The stupid thing was ridiculously expensive, and he's almost ashamed to admit that he's been using it as a doorstop.

Achilles groans. "Oh my god, this was the worst idea ever. Fuck it, I'm just going to go for it, and that'll be that." Patroclus is staring at him now, eyes wide. "I like you. A lot. I would very much like to take you out on dates and do stuff."

Patroclus's brain short circuits. "What." 

Achilles covers his face with his hands and moans, "I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it and I went and did it anyway. I am such an idiot."

"You like me?"

"Agh, yes, and I totally didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, really sorry about that-" and Patroclus claps a hand across his mouth. Achilles looks at him, eyes wide and open and utterly vulnerable.

Patroclus grins. "You talk to much," he says, and leans across to kiss Achilles.

When they finally pull apart, Achilles's face is flushed and he's breathing hard. "Does this mean-"

"Oh my god, yes," Patroclus replies.  
***  
"You two are absolutely disgusting," Briseis as she makes an espresso with a lot more force than is strictly necessary. Across the cafe, Achilles and Patroclus are entangled on a couch, sharing a carton of Thai food.

Patroclus grins at her. "Thought this was what you were going for, Bris."

"Yeah, but I didn't want you all to become one of those sickeningly affectionate couples." The door opens, and Odysseus walks in, clutching Penelope's hand.

"Hey, Bris," he says, "Oh, have I told you about the bed I made for Penelope?"

The glare Briseis levels him with could kill a man. "Yes, Odysseus, I'm pretty sure everyone here has heard about your stupid bed. God. This place is getting so cutesy, I could just vomit."

The door to the break room swings open, and Diomedes and Cressida walk out. Her makeup is smudged, and both their hair is ruffled as if they've just finished a particularly enthusiastic makeout session.

"Hi, all," Cressida chirps.

Briseis throws up her hands. "That's it. I'm fucking done," she says, and stalks out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Diomedes watches her go, looking puzzled. "What's wrong with her?"

**Author's Note:**

> Briseis is probably the shift manager. I've worked with people like Agamemnon, who'll call you at the last minute and expect you to come in even though you aren't even signed up to work that night, so yeah. That's pretty annoying.
> 
> About Cressida: She's actually from the Shakespeare play Troilus and Cressida, and has a relationship with Troilus until she's basically traded over to the Greeks for another prisoner, at which point she started a relationship with Diomedes for her own protection, since the other Greek generals were basically pawing at her. Now, I never liked Troilus, so I basically wrote him out of this AU because hey, I'm in charge.


End file.
